THE JOURNEY

You's gotter hab some trouble in dis rough ol' world ob ours,

You's gotter fight de bumble bee, sometimes to pick de flowers;

You's gwinter fin' a heap o' roughness in de rocky road,

Befo' you gits wha' you kin rest an' lay aside de load.

But be humble, an' don' grumble,

'Case you sometimes slip an' stumble,

An' seems to drap behin' de res' ob all de hustlin' throng,

Don't stop an' staht a-whinin'

An' a-whimperin' an' a-pinin',

But pick yoh feet up, honey, an' go travellin' along.

You may hab fears o' troubles dat'll hit yo' hard

some day,

But dar's wusser boun' to ketch yo' if yo' halts along de way.

You's gotter keep a-movin'. Some is fast and some is slow,

But all dat's looked foh from you is to do de best you know.

So don't you wait an' worry,
Ef you falls down in yoh hurry,

An' never mind the chaffin'

An' de hollerin' an' de laughin',

Jes' pull yohse'f together as you hums a little song,

But pick yoh feet up, honey, and go travellin'

along.

WASHINGTON "STAR."

ABSORB the sunshine of today; it may be cloudy tomorrow.

SOME days must needs be full of gloom,
Yet must we use them as we may;

Talk less about the years to come,
Give love, and labor more, today.

ALICE CARY.

SUNSHINE MAKING

PUT a bit of sunshine in the day;
Others need its cheer and so do you-
Need it most when outer sky's dull gray
Leaves the sunshine-making yours to do.

Give the day a streak of rosy dawn;

Give it, too, a touch of highest noon;
Make the ones about you wonder why
Sunset crimson should appear "so soon."

Sunshine-making is a blessed task;

Cheery hearts, like lovely, wide-blue sky,
Banish weary gloom and give fresh hope,
Check the rising tear or thoughtless sigh.

Put the golden sunshine in each day;

Others need the cheer that comes thro' you—
Need it most when outer sky's dull gray
Leaves the sunshine-making yours to do.

JUNIATA STAFFORD.

Joy is the sunshine of the soul,

Grief its showers.

The blending of the two in one

Makes perfect flowers.

IF, instead of a gem, or even a flower, we could cast the gift of a lovely thought into the heart of a friend, that would be giving as the angels give.

GEORGE MCDONALD.

AND where we love is home,

Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts; The chain may lengthen, but it never parts.

HOLMES.

IT is the surmounting of difficulties that makes

heroes.

KOSSUTH.

THE IDEAL

We are unsatisfied, and know not why;
We seek for the ideal of our dreams,

And strive to reach it builded by the beams
Of truth and faith. Setting our standard high,
We struggle on; but when the prize is nigh
We find that it eludes us, and it seems
To beckon onward, mocking with its gleams
Like some bright mirage in the eastern sky.
With eyes blind to the glory here below,
Our thoughts forever turned away from earth,
We see no beauty around us, and the worth
Hidden in humble things we never know.
We grope and pass unheeding on the way
The good that we are seeking day by day.
DONAHOE'S MAGAZINE.

GOD hides some ideal in every human soul. At some time in our life we feel a trembling, fearful longing to do some good thing. Life finds its noblest spring of excellence in this hidden impulse to do our best.

COLLYER.

THE ideal life, the life of full completion, haunts us all. We feel the thing we ought to be, beating beneath the thing we are.

WE are haunted by an ideal life, and it is because

we have within us the beginning and the possibility of it.

PHILLIPS BROOKS.

Ir is just as well that some of our blessings come in disguise; otherwise they would never catch us.

HOLIDAYS

PUCK.

THE holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows;
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows.
White as the gleam of a receding sail,

White as the cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
These tender memories are; a fairy tale

Of some enchanted land, we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream.

LONGFELLOW.

Look up and not down,
Look forward and not back,

Look out and not in,

Lend a hand.

EDWARD EVERETT HALE.